


The Five Times FitzSimmons Were Caught and the One Time They Let It Slip

by TheWholeDamnTime



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M, Fitzsimmons Secret Valentine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:58:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3355052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWholeDamnTime/pseuds/TheWholeDamnTime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 5+1 for FitzSimmons Secret Valentine's day exchange, a gift for the lovely miss hermoninee-granger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Five Times FitzSimmons Were Caught and the One Time They Let It Slip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hermoninee-granger.tumblr.com](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=hermoninee-granger.tumblr.com).



They really didn’t know how or when it started. It just kind of… _did_. Fitz would brush his hand over Jemma’s as they worked in the lab, or she’d lean into his touch a little more. Movie nights became time to cuddle into each other’s warmth, and gentle kisses in locked bunks became commonplace. (Fitz liked finding the spots on her neck that made her giggle and peppering kisses there until she pushed him away with a smile on her face and laughter in her throat.)

They didn’t really define it. They were just more in-sync than ever, eyes locked on each other when the other wasn’t looking and the smiles when they’d whisper _I love you_ into the other’s ear. Twined fingers when nobody could see and slipping back to their own bunks at early hours to keep suspicion from rising. Jemma wore Fitz’s jumpers on cold days and nobody noticed, simply because they couldn’t tell the difference. (Jemma could. They smelled like cinnamon and solder and _Fitz_ , and she’d sometimes burrow her head in the sleeves just to surround herself with it.)

They didn’t tell anyone, either. They simply didn’t see any reason to. They hadn’t defined it. They hadn’t definitively decided anything. What was there to tell? (Or at least so Jemma reasoned. Fitz just didn’t object.)

They didn’t really have to tell anyone, as it turned out. One by one, the team found out on their own. (Much to the embarrassment of the scientists.)

This is the story of how it happened.

* * *

 

_Melinda May_

May wandered downstairs. Insomnia was a common friend on these nights, and usually she’d just wait out the artificial dawn with Tai Chi or meditation. Her footsteps made no noise as she passed the lab, only to freeze as she heard a soft keening noise as she passed. Immediately, she melded into the shadows and slunk along the wall until she saw the source of the noise.

And let out an inaudible sigh.

FitzSimmons were kissing- no, that couldn’t be qualified as kissing. FitzSimmons were _making out_ , Jemma’s back pressed to the wall opposite of May and Fitz’s back was to where the specialist was rolling her eyes. The base was dead silent other than their light pants and whimpers. _How did they think they were going to get away with this?_ the specialist wondered as there came a particularly loud moan. As Jemma ran a hand through Fitz’s curls, May couldn’t help but feel a smile creeping up her face. _Finally_. Very, very intentionally, she flicked over a nearby bin- who knew what was in it, or even cared- and disappeared into the living room to begin her Tai Chi with a smirk on her face.

Behind her, she could hear them springing apart, the panicked, frantic movements as they discovered the toppled bin, and the murmured agreement to get back to their bunks, _now_.

And Melinda May smiled.

* * *

 

_Antoine Triplett_

“Want a drink?” Triplett offered as Jemma wandered into the living room of the bus. Settling down beside him on a stool, she nodded, a hand rubbing little circles at her temple.

“Long day?”

“You have no idea,” she muttered, downing half the beer he offered her in one go. Trip raised an eyebrow at her, clearly impressed, and she replied, “I’m British. We drink.”

“Damn, I envy you heavyweights. Despite my size, I can hardly drink two without getting mildly drunk,” Trip said with a lopsided grin.

“Really? Your bodymass and stature, as well as the fact that you are male and-”

“I know, I know, I defy science. Fitz spent our last guy’s night explaining to me exactly how. I don’t even think I could understand what he was rambling about stone-cold sober, and that guy’d had at least five shots and a few beers.” Jemma grinned at his words.

“Fitz used to out-drink us all down at the boiler room. I was a close third, only beaten by a guy who was twice my size and at least three years older.” Trip laughed, already sounding a little tipsy.

“The sorry thing is, I can actually see that,” he said, grin splitting open his face. For a moment, they drank in a comfortable quiet, nursing their own drinks at their different rates.

“So you and Fitz dating yet?” he asked casually, and Jemma nearly did a spit-take.

“Wha- I mean, what? No, why on earth would you- I mean, honestly, what evidence is there that-”

“Woah, chill,” Trip said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I was joking. ‘Course, now you’ve pretty much confirmed that one. How’d you ever survive at HYDRA, girl?” he asked, half-grin on his face. Jemma groaned and buried her head in her hands.

“I prepped. A lot. Please don’t say anything. We’re keeping things… under wraps, for now.”

“Sure, no problem,” he promised, grabbing another beer from the fridge and siding it to her. He popped open his own and took a sip before continuing, “You know, I don’t think anyone would mind. Half this bus is rooting for you two to hook up already.” Jemma shot him a suspicious look and took a long swig of the amber liquid before her, then pushed the half-full bottle away.

“I’ve got to go to bed. Another long day tomorrow,” she said,

“Alright, see you bright and early.” There was a pause as she started to leave, but Trip called out, “And Simmons?” She paused and turned half-back to him, eyes curious.

“Try to keep it PG, yeah? I bunk next door.”

* * *

 

_Phil Coulson_

Coulson was usually a great sleeper, but after the HYDRA reveal, he never really could keep his eyes shut for more than a couple hours at a time. This night, he was wandering around the base a little past two in the morning, a mug of warm milk in hand. Figuring he was drowsy enough again, he shuffled back towards his room, flicking on the corridor lights as he went.

Jemma was frozen in place, halfway between her and her partner’s room, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and… Fitz’s shirt. It was haphazardly buttoned up the front and missing a few, at that. There was a moment as Coulson took in the sight, the biochemist blanching and eyes clinging to the “deer in the headlights” look. Only one thought crossed the Director’s mind.

 _Too damn early_.

“Just keep it quiet,” he grumbled, passing her in the hall without pause.

“Oh, no sir, we were just sleeping together- I mean- oh goodness, this doesn’t look good- just asleep, nothing- nothing explicit and- and- oh goodness-” she stuttered out. Slowly, Coulson raised a hand and her voice broke off.

“Too early. Just keep it quiet.” With that, he turned and wandered off, leaving a mildly stunned Jemma Simmons in his wake.

“Al-alright, sir,” she managed, staring as the door clicked shut behind Coulson and the Director collapsed back into sleep.

* * *

 

_Bobbi Morse_

It was pretty early morning, but Bobbi, much to her namesake, was an early bird. She was usually the first one up in the mornings, but today seemed like the exception. Giggles echoed from the kitchen, surprisingly awake for six o’ clock.

“Leopold Fitz, don’t you _dare!_ ” came a voice floating down the hall. It sounded more amused than exasperated, and Bobbi smiled. Ever since those two had made up, they’d been nothing short of adorable. _If only they’d start dating already_. Not wanting to disturb their moment, she half-peeked around the corner to find Jemma settled on the counter next to a bowl of batter and a waffle iron and Fitz with a bottle of whipped cream in his hands and a mischievous smile. The sound of the whipped cream tore through the quiet as he smeared a dot of it on her nose and she giggled, trying to lick the dot off and only half-succeeding.

“C’mere, lass,” he said, tugging her close and lightly kissing the tip of her nose to get it off.

Bobbi nearly had to bite her lip to keep from squealing like a schoolgirl.

“ _Fi-itz._ ” He grinned and moved his lips to her mouth for another quick kiss, pressing his lips to hers with a warm smile.

“Whipped cream and kissing you has to be the best combination ever invented.” Laughing, she half-heartedly slapped his arm.

“Dork.”

“And yet you love me anyways.”

“Of course,” she said, moving in to kiss him again. “Always.”

The spy retreated quickly down the hall. Breakfast could wait. There was no way in hell she was stepping on their moment.

* * *

 

_Skye_

Skye was wandering the base, simultaneously bored out of her mind and numb throughout. There’d been no ops in weeks, and she was getting rather sick of paperwork. Sighing slightly, she walked down the hallway, listening for the sounds of life around the plane. As she heard a rustle from Jemma’s room, she reasoned that the biochemist was probably up late ( _again_ ) and figured that talking to her

 

“Hey, Simmons? You still up?” she whispered, typing in the code and peeking in, not bothering to knock. Maybe it was just her, but it sure looked like there were a lot more lumps than when Jemma was usually curled up in bed. In fact, those shoulders looked _much_ too wide to be Simmons. “Simmons?” she whispered again, eyes narrowing. The door cracked open a little wider and the light from the hallway cast over the bed.

Skye’s eyes went wide and she almost squealed aloud.

FitzSimmons was curled up in bed together, Jemma tucked close to his chest, his arm thrown around her shoulder and holding her tight. Fitz’s shirt was bunched in a way that suggested the biochemist had balled her fists in the fabric, holding him tight to her. They were fit together so tightly that to Skye, it was clearer than a flashing neon sign that they had memorized each other. Namely, the way each other slept. As the light hit them, Jemma gave a little whimpering noise and buried her head tighter into Fitz’s shirt, and there was a groaning noise from the engineer as he curled up tighter around the girl in his arms.

Clasping her hands over her mouth, she closed the door as quietly as possible and then sprinted for Bobbi’s bunk.

* * *

 

_The Team (+1)_

It was a messy op- Trip got clipped in the arm by a wayward bullet, May got a small piece of shrapnel in her side, and everyone was overall pretty banged up. But they won. The HYDRA base was down and all of their data was streamed straight into Skye’s laptop. Fitz practically stumbled out of the car when they were back in the BUS, only to be greeted by Jemma’s arms desperately thrown around him, her cheek pressed to his chest. Almost immediately, he wrapped his own arms around her, murmuring a soft greeting in her ear.

“I was worried,” she whispered in place of her own greeting.

“I can tell,” he replied, a half-smile on his face as she turned her own to look into his eyes.

Fitz desperately pressed his lips to Jemma’s, overwhelmed with the relief of being home, of being safe, of being with her. She stiffened at first, shock-still with surprise- _we’re in front of the team_ , her eyes said- but soon she softened and melded into his touch, her arms looping around his neck and kissing him back with enthusiasm. He didn’t care that they knew. It was too important that he wasn’t dead and he was here and he was kissing the girl he loved and she was kissing him back, fingers lightly playing with the curls on the nape of his neck.

Then there were two simultaneous wolf-whistles and a bit of clapping.

FitzSimmons broke apart almost immediately, flush-red and staring at Trip and Skye, both of whom were smirking and clapping, Trip adding another whistle for good measure. Then there was a whoop from where the Director and Skye were looking at a little notebook.

“I win! I had tomorrow. Fork it over, guys!” There were some groans from the team as everyone moved to their pockets, fishing out some cash and handing it to the hacker. Then May swooped by and flipped the page with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. Skye’s cheers stopped. Then, a single, stunned syllable-

“Oh.” There was a sudden quiet, and May extended a hand for her trainee to fork over the money. “How do you even do that?!” she cried, throwing her hands about in exasperation. Confusion flicked over the faces of the rest of the team.

“She guessed it down to the time of day!” she cried in exasperation, throwing the notebook at Mack. A look of mild amusement on his face, he flipped it open and started to read.

“May: Wednesday the 28th, at any point from six to eight.” He glanced at the clock. “It’s 7:15 exactly. Damn,” he said as his eyes widened and a mildly impressed look flitted over his face.

“What are you, magic?” Trip cried, looking at the paper and back to May, over and over again. She just smirked and waved the bills at him, walking to the cockpit.

It was then FitzSimmons found their voices.

“You were betting on us?” 

“How did you even _know?!_ ” Jemma glanced at Fitz.

“Er- well, Coulson caught me heading back to my room and… _assumed_. And Trip weaseled it out of me.” Fitz raised an eyebrow and she cringed a little bit.

“Weaseled? Girl, you practically told me on your own.”

“Not helping.”

“Sorry,” he said, even though the grin on his face wasn’t sorry in the slightest.

“But that’s it. I swear.”

“So none of the rest of you should have known! What th’ hell?” Fitz blurted, turning away from his girlfriend and back to the team.

“Trust me, we already knew,” snorted Mack. “The instant _that_ one found out,” he said, gesturing at Skye, whose face twisted into an exaggerated look of betrayal, “she practically shouted the news from the hilltops.”

“How did _you_ know?” Jemma cried, spinning to look at her friend.

“You forgot I know your passcode.” There was a pause as FitzSimmons’s brow bunched. “I walked in on you guys sleeping together.” At least three of the other people on the team immediately cringed, and she grinned before adding, “Thank god you were fully clothed.”

“ _Skye!_ ”

“What?”

“ ** _Knock!_** ” FitzSimmons yelled together. The hacker grinned sheepishly at them, raising her arms in a half-hearted shrug.

“Sorry?”

“You are not,” laughed Trip.

“Shh! They’re supposed to believe me!” she mock-whispered at him. Jemma’s shoulders huffed up and down with a sigh, and Fitz carefully came up behind her and threaded his arms around her. The sigh as she settled back in his embrace was much softer, a gentle sound of contentment.

“Gross, lovebirds,” said Skye, wrinkling her nose in mock disgust.

“Well, I’m out. It’s no fun when I don’t win money,” commented Mack, heading for the door. “Congrats, Turbo.”

“Same. You two are adorably gross.” Trip grinned as he turned away, but paused at the doorway, turning back to throw a smirk over his shoulder. “Man, just keep it quiet. I sleep next door.”

“Alright, everybody back to work,” added Coulson, starting to shoo people from the loading ramp. “And you two,” he said, looking at the happy couple, who immediately snapped to attention. “I’m going to ignore section 17 for you two, but on two conditions.” They nodded, in sync as ever. “One: it’s not going to mess with your work.”

“Oh, of course not, sir, we’d never-”

“It won’t we’ve been-”

“-simply work better together in any case-”

“-months now-”

“-no issues thus far-”

“-and statistically stating, if it went on for that long without-”

“-and most likely, none in the future-”

“-probability states that it-”

“ _Alright!_ ” There was a sudden quiet.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Sorry.”

“Requirement two is that you keep it quiet at night.” Shocked looks played across the scientists’ faces and something like an amused smirk appeared on the Director’s face.

“Oh my goodness we don’t-”

“Why in Curie’s name does everybody think we’ve been-”

“-slept in the same bed since practically the Academy-”

“-completely innocent! Not everything has to be sex and-”

“-utterly non-sexual, I swear-”

“FitzSimmons!” called the director over the chatter. They silenced again and Coulson raised an eyebrow at the biochemist.

“Jemma, if you want to be believed, I suggest you don’t wear the shirt Fitz wore during the day to bed. Dismissed.”

And with that, he turned and walked out the door, leaving an utterly stunned FitzSimmons in his wake.


End file.
